Shard of the Beholder
by AzureSpider
Summary: Done for Halloween and also my very first D&D Fan-Fic! A team of adventurers enters a dark, and twisted forest where those who go in don't come back out again. As they brave the many horrors of this place in search of the treasure trove a dead Beholder left behind, they'll also have to face other threats as well, including some rivals with goals of their own. Rated T, part of 5thEd
1. Chapter 1

Shard of the Beholder

**Author's Note: I was determined to do a horror fic for Halloween, and lo and behold, it ended up being my first Dungeons and Dragons fan-fiction too! Not bad. Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys, and just as a treat, I've got the party's species, classes, and alignments listed below in true D&D Fashion:**

**Zylax: Male Half-Elf Warlord/Marshal-Lawful Neutral**

**Nyx: Female Elf Ranger-Chaotic Good**

**Yilvik: Male Dwarf Fighter-Neutral Good**

**Darnis: Male Dwarf Conjurer-True Neutral**

**Lileris: Female Succubus Mystic-Neutral Good**

**Sir Richard Zachary: Male Human Paladin-Lawful Good**

**Verriz: Male Drow Warlock and Mercenary-Neutral Evil**

"**Ironfoot": Male Halfling Thief/Rogue-Chaotic Good**

**Amonella: Female Half-Vampire/Dhampir Assassin-Chaotic Neutral**

**Note that of course this is trying to also have a "horror" vibe to it, and as to what "horror" in particular, I decided to experiment with several different kinds of horror and try my at hand at both the physical kind of horror and the non-physical, along with some stuff that's kind of in-between the two and contains elements of both. I hope I manage to impress at least a few people with my efforts.**

**And that's everything. Enjoy the story!**

"It's beautiful isn't it?" Sir Richard Zachary said as he looked up to the sky.

"What, the sun?" asked the Dwarf at his side.

Sir Richard nodded. "Yes. One rarely takes the time to appreciate such things, but it really is quite the sight. And one I fear we may not be seeing much more of for a while longer."

"I think you'll handle yourself in those woods just fine. Ya did manage to kill Brug after all, and he was a bloody Half-Orc!"

"I did not enjoy doing that." Sir Richard noted before adding: "Brug was an ally. That he turned on us was not solely the fault of his kind's legendary temper. There is an evil to those woods that we're about to go into. An evil that should be treated with caution."

"Either way, I think you'll make it. I would be concerned about that nice cape if I was you though."

"This cape was a gift." Sir Richard said simply, as he did grabbing a part of it to look at it, and also to show it off and thus emphasize it's importance to him. "Sewn for me by a friend and given to me when I was knighted. I wear it with pride."

"It is a nice cape." The Dwarf admitted, looking at the majestic cape that Sir Richard wore over his armored shoulders. It was black on the inside and a rich violet purple on the outside. According to the Paladin it was his most prized possession.

"...it's only that if you ever get stabbed and bleed out you'll ruin it pretty good."

"Doubtful with my armor and skill both." Sir Richard said, unmoved before adding: "Now then old friend: I believe Zylax told you to go get Nyx..."

The Dwarf sighed and held up his hand. "Yeah, yeah alright. I'll get right on that." And so it was that he trudged off in search of one of the company's more solitary members.

_Here's hoping the lass didn't go **too **far..._

-X-

Nyx's emerald eyes looked out at the vast lake as if she were looking for someone. Perhaps in a way she was. Alone and not moving at all from her place underneath the willow tree that gave her shelter, Nyx kept watch over everything that was transpiring, or not transpiring as the case may be. She was ever-alert like that.

"Trying to get the lake to shrivel up?" a gruff voice asked. Nyx turned to see one of the company's two Dwarves lumber towards her. As he continued to speak, his already deep voice boomed somewhat from inside the fearsome Dragon-Helm that covered his face. "…cause you're certainly staring at it like ya want it gone."

Yilvik was his name. He was a Dwarf of a height and build that was largely typical of his species, but his Dragon-Helm covered his whole face and he seldom took it off, which in turn set him apart from most others of his kin.

"What are you doing here Yilvik?" Nyx asked, not currently in the mood to be bothered and making it clear with the tone in her voice.

"Zylax says we're picking up camp again. I was sent out to go lookin' for ya."

Nyx nodded. Zylax was the leader of the company, a driven Half-Elf who had managed to cobble together a most unlikely alliance of characters that were now camped out on the edge of a very…"special" forest.

Nyx followed Yilvik through the meadow, as she did taking note of how slowly the Dwarf moved. She knew it to be a façade. Come battle Yilvik was surprisingly quick on his feet in spite of his short stature and many layers of armor. He wasn't terribly coordinated, but he was by no means sluggish in a fight. And he did pack a lot of physical power too, as was to be expected from a Dwarf, and especially one of Yilvik's reputation, lineage, and personal accomplishments. "I _earned_ this helm you know." Was a sentence he had used many a time before, and likely would many a time again.

"It's nice that the sun's out today." Yilvik noted matter-of-factly as he and Nyx continued to walk before adding in a more serious tone: "I get the feeling we might not be seeing much more of it for a while."

Indeed, the sun was out and shining brightly across the meadow the two walked through now. The mostly black clothing Nyx dressed in, including the black mask and veil she wore over her face and a hooded cape of the same color ensured that she was kept sufficiently warm by the sun's rays.

The meadow was a grassy field that was fairly unassuming, save that it served as a sort of natural bridge between some frontier settlements that had had a bit of a Gnoll problem for some time now, and the forest known alternatively as "The Dread Wood", the "Sea of Black Roots", or alternatively simply "Hell". In all not exactly inviting monikers, but then they weren't meant to be. The forest was one of those places that not even the absolutely psychotic and bloodthirsty Gnolls went to. And any that did never came back out again.

And now Zylax was planning to lead the company through it.

"Do you think this latest venture of ours is a wise one?" Nyx asked off-handedly as the two neared the campsite.

"We all agreed to go through with it didn't we?" Yilvik replied, his tone laid-back as he fingered his long, proud brown beard that spilled out from beneath his helmet.

"It hadn't been a popular decision." Nyx pointed out.

"I suppose not." Yilvik conceded before adding: "And yet we still went for it. Except for Brug that is."

When Nyx and Yilvik finally reached the camp-site in full, they could see that some of the different members of the party were indeed discussing amongst themselves whether or not they should go into the forest, in particular Zylax was trying to reassure one of the more openly reluctant group members.

"I don't like the look of this place." Came Amonella's voice. "…and I grew up in my father's Chateau."

"Then really you have nothing to worry about." Zylax pointed out. "A Vampire's castle is a much worse place to be. And besides, you all agreed to go through with this. If you really didn't want to go in you all should have stuck to your initial views on the matter."

"Brug didn't agree." Amonella pointed out.

At this Zylax sighed and a look of regret appeared on his face for a moment as he turned to regard the mound of dirt with a marker that represented a grave. "Poor Quoayx."

It had taken all of the charismatic Half-Elf's natural oratorical skills to convince his crew to go into the forest, and even then some of them up and up refused to do it. Ironically the Half-Orc amongst them had been the first to throw up his hands and storm off in a huff. Another of their party, a Gnome with a mouth three times the size of his head (and brain as it turned out) made the mistake of heckling Brug, calling him a "disgrace to his race". Brug responded by removing the little Gnome's head from his body (he'd always had a temper like that).

Nyx's eyes looked at each of the different members of the group in turn, taking in their distinct appearances one by one and thanks to her keen Elf eyesight seeing all manner of different details in each of them. Besides herself and Yilvik there had been ten other members of the company counting Zylax himself, but after the desertion of Brug, the death of Qoayx, and before that the loss of the pureblood Orc Strak-Hor in battle against some Hobgoblins who'd gotten lucky, the group was down to nine. This in turn made the prospect of going into the woods that no one ever returned from an even more insane one, but still the crew had decided to press on, such was the charisma with which Zylax inspired them. That most of them privately reasoned they could always turn back if the going got too tough for them certainly also helped.

"The Dhampir is not alone in her feelings of reluctance." Came the voice of the Sir Richard, the steel helm with a clamp down visor with several slits for vision that covered his face giving said voice a bit of an echo. "…I too still have concerns about this venture Zylax. You know the stories of this place as much as I do."

"I certainly do." Zylax replied laconically before adding: "…considering how many times you've told me them on the way here."

"If I protest strenuously, it is for a good reason." The Paladin replied. "I don't like this place. It is unholy and not a place for any innocent creature's feet to tread, simple as that."

"Well then I guess it's a good thing not all of us are innocent then is it?" asked a snide voice, one that sounded more like a sneer. That was the tell-tale sound of Verriz, a Drow Mercenary who sold his Warlock magics to the highest bidder. Unlike others of his kin, he had no reverence for the vile Spider Goddess Lolth, but instead served only himself, selfishness at it's finest.

"Speak for yourself." Sir Richard replied coldly. "Even the Succubus and half-nosferatu I consider to be finer and more blessed company than you."

"Hey! I'm standing right here!" called out the half-nosferatu in question, which in turn prompted Nyx to look at her again and take in her appearance a bit more. Amonella was a woman of particularly tall stature, towering over all of the other women in the party, even Lileris the Succubus. She knew how to stride and move with confidence as well, at least when the sun was down. Her pale, ghostly white skin along with long hair of the same color and pronounced fangs sticking out from her crimson lips gave away her vampiric nature immediately, and most who saw her assumed she was just a pure vampire, not a half-breed.

Sir Richard Zachary ignored Amonella's protest and continued: "You are of course free to do as you wish mercenary. I care not for what fate befalls one as amoral and selfish as yourself."

Zylax seemed about ready to move in and pacify the situation (he was good at that) before Verriz snickered and replied simply: "Is it so selfish to know the truth? And the truth is this: gold runs the world. Sooner you figure that out, the better life will treat ya."

"The Order of the Burning Shield provides me with more than adequate monetary and material needs. And my duty to them fulfills the rest."

At this Verriz burst out laughing. "Ah, I love this guy. Listening to him go on never gets old."

"Amonella and the Paladin are not wrong about these woods though." Came the serene, almost melodious voice of the Succubus Lileris. When she spoke, all turned to face her, regardless of race, gender, or preference. This was of course because of the powers of attraction all Succubus possessed, and ones that Lileris generally struggled to keep under control. But nevertheless, some of them still shone through. When Lileris spoke, people listened.

Lileris continued: "I do indeed sense a great evil within these woods. In fact, I sense several evils, all of great intensity. We risk much going into them."

"How right you are my love." Zylax replied, before adding quickly: "But also what rewards! The treasure of a slain Beholder lies within those woods, just waiting to be grabbed. All of the weapons, armor, gold, jewels, and trinkets carried by all those who tried and failed to kill that beastie are ours to make use of as we see fit, so long as we have the courage and skill to take them!"

"Perhaps, but even so. Caution is not a thing we can afford to forsake here."

Nyx for her part always felt a deep sense of sadness to Lileris, the melody of her tone being that of a tragic love song, and the look in her eyes being not fiery or devious the way it was with others of her kind, but instead sorrowful and longing. But then that was the consequence of being a pariah to your race and all of Fiend kind.

Not, of course, that her sad disposition did a thing to detract from her considerable beauty. Lileris' skin was not quite so pale as that of Amonella, instead more fair in tone. Her hair was always long, but seemed to change colors whenever someone beheld her, as for that matter did her eyes, which went from blue to green to amethyst to amber and back again. Nyx for her part suspected that this was because as a figure that personified sexual attraction, Lileris' appearance would to an extent change depending on who beheld her. For after all, not everyone had the same idea of what a truly beautiful woman would look like.

It was then that another of the company chose to intercede: "Ah, I agree with Zylax on this one. I say let's go in there and see what happens. I could use whatever magical trinkets that dead Beholder got before biting it. Always looking to expand my collection."

This then was the other Dwarf in the company, Darnis. Darnis was atypical of his species in that he was a Conjurer. His being a Dwarf with magical talents that for them was unheard of had very much gone to his head, and he was fond of going on about how great a spell-slinger he was. And then, as if merely thinking this prompted him to act up again, Darnis remarked: "And another thing: so what if there's some other nasties lurking about in those woods? My magics are more than enough to make cinders out of the lot of 'em."

That was the Dwarf's specialty as far as magic went: fire. Certainly Darnis could conjure up other magic attacks and did so when needed, but by and large he preferred to unleash balls and blasts of fire at his enemies.

"…heck, I could probably burn down the whole bloody wood if I wanted to! Dry wood burns fast you know." He then hefted his battle axe over his shoulder as if to show off the one wicked, curved blade on it. "Easy to chop too."

The battle-axe Darnis carried was no less fine a one than Yilvik's, but the latter was still the better fighter of the two as far as Nyx was concerned. And truth be told, she liked him more too. She didn't like people who went on, as Darnis tended to.

"Good to see I still have at least one supporter here." Zylax noted. "So then…I trust the rest of you are still in agreement as to our venturing into these woods? I don't want anyone second-guessing once we set foot in there. If any of you wish to jump ship now the way Brug did, this is the time to do it. This is no place for the insecure or unsure."

At this, the various members of the company exchanged nervous looks and glances with one another, with the exceptions of Verriz, who was twirling his dagger about impatiently and making eye-contact with no one. But Nyx could tell from the look on her dark kin's face that his extreme sense of self-preservation was currently at odds with his insatiable greed. The Elf had a feeling which one would win out. She turned to regard the others, looking at them all one by one again. Most of them looked at least a bit nervous, but they also seemed to brush it aside and moved forward to join Zylax. The Half-Elf smiled at the sight of this. "Excellent. I knew I could depend on all of you. Now enough dawdling. Let's move out!"

And so it was that the company of nine, with some trepidation, made their way into the woods. The sun seemed to vanish immediately the second the group entered the forest in full, the tall trees' tops keeping even the slimmest sunrays from reaching the ground. As such, it was pretty dark. Everywhere the group looked, shadows seemed to rise as high as the trees. The trees themselves all looked gaunt and poorly nourished, but then if there was no sunlight that wasn't surprising.

"Any idea where the Beholder's lair is located?" Yilvik asked Sir Richard Zachary as the two walked together, the Dwarf moving even more slowly then usual on the account of the rising fog that seemed to carpet the ground of the forest. The Paladin shook his head. "No. The stories of the Beholder of the Dread Wood are not that detailed. There is no definitive account of where specifically the Beholder was. Likely very deep into the forest though. Beholders do crave isolation after all."

"Can you sense anything with your magics Lileris?" Zylax asked.

The Succubus put a black silk gloved hand to the side of her head and closed her eyes for a moment. "I sense a great many things, none of them pleasant to me. But no, I cannot determine where the Beholder's lair is."

Zylax then turned to Nyx. "And what of you Nyx? Do you think your tracking skills are up to the test?"

"I'm proud of and confident in my skills Zylax, but like all Rangers I also know my tracking skills are no substitute for magic. If Lileris cannot find the Beholder's lair, then neither can I."

"Then I guess we'll just have to comb the whole forest then." Zylax said resolutely.

Most would have objected to such a plan, but at this point the company had decided to follow their leader into the Dread Wood and with it take all of the risks that entailed, so really they were past the point of protest.

The company tread on in relatively sullen silence. For her part Nyx had taken to leaving behind a long string as the group walked, the one end of it being at the mouth of the wood. It was a strategy she employed often, and whenever the line wasn't straight up destroyed it usually worked quite nicely as far as getting the company out of dangerous places went.

And so it went for what seemed quite a while. Trudging through the forest floor everyone looked about for any sign of the Beholder's lair or any hint of where his treasure trove might have been. But they saw neither. In fact, it became very clear after a while that the party wasn't finding anything at all. Nothing but the trees and the black soil on the ground were present, along with the fog. There was nothing else in sight. No flowers, no animals, no bones of the dead, nothing.

It was deathly quiet too. No sounds of birds singing, calling, or even flying through the air could be heard. No howls of a wolf, or bounding of a stag. The only sound present was that of the group's feet trudging through the black soil, in particular the laborious sound of the one member of the party who had this entire time not yet seen fit to speak up. But then, it was rather hard to speak up when you're missing your tongue. That had been the fate of the last member of their party, the Halfling who's given alias to the party (communicated through writing of course) was "Ironfoot". This was in reference to his other injury, a missing foot that had been replaced with an artificial, metal prosthetic. The thing made all kinds of noise (as it did now), and also attracted quite a bit of attention, but it did also make for a useful bludgeoning weapon in a fight whenever the Halfling's knives and poisons failed to suffice.

Nyx often found herself intrigued by Ironfoot, and she was honest enough to admit that it was mostly because of his predicament. As she saw his namesake smash through a dead bush she again wondered about his origins. What had caused his injuries Ironfoot never said, and in all he just kept to himself more often than not. Notably though there were several wanted posters of him in many of the towns the group had gone to, which in turn prompted them to often leave Ironfoot behind to look after the camp, a duty he seemed to endure without much in the way of complaint. He wasn't complaining here either, his face a grim mask of stoic determination, lips tightly pursed up and narrow eyes set firmly on what was in front of him.

_Dour, short of stature, scarred in battle, and totally without fear. He's just like a Dwarf._

And that just left Nyx herself. She was an Elf of the Highborn class, but had spent many decades living in the forests and trees with the Wood Elves. Physically, the High Elf was attractive enough, especially by the standards of most humans, but that said she was also past her prime where that particular virtue was concerned, the first streaks of gray coming to be visible amidst her otherwise still jet-black hair. As a ranger, Nyx tended to dress in leather armor with only a few bits of copper and scale armor here and there, all of the latter painted black to match the rest of her clothes. Boiled leather gloves with armored vambraces covered her hands and black heeled boots similar to the ones Lileris wore covered her legs. Besides her bow and arrows and a dagger worn at her hip, Nyx also bore a scimitar, more specifically a Moonblade that was to her what Sir Richard Zachary's cloak was to him. And in her case it was not a friend who had given it to her but rather been passed down to her after her husband…

Nyx shook her head. She did not like to think about that. It had not been a good day and Nyx was not one for dwelling on bad days. In fact, Nyx tended to not dwell much on the past at all. Certainly a few happy memories were always remembered and cherished, but by and large Nyx was content to focus on the now and occasionally the future, and not spend any time wishing she could change the events of the past.

And then of course there was her real name. Nyx wasn't it. No, she'd buried her name with her husband. Nyx was just what she and others had called her in light of her dark hair, demeanor, and clothing, and the name stuck. She liked it well enough, and bore it without complaint.

Nyx's attentions briefly turned back to her other companions. Sir Richard's helmet betrayed no expression, but his posture did, the Paladin being hunched over a bit and with his hand clad in steel gauntlet and silk glove beneath that clutching the handle of his broadsword tightly. In the time she'd known him, Nyx had found that he rarely removed his helmet, which she for one viewed as a tragedy. She liked the man's face. It was not like many other human males, rugged and bearded. No, his face still had some youth left in it. Gods knew what he'd seen and done to beat the rest out of him.

"What do you suppose happened to this place to make it so…empty?" Amonella asked as her aqua colored eyes looked about nervously. "Even my father's chateau was more populated than this place, even if it was only by Vampire Spawn and Wights."

"Were you not listening any of the times I spoke of this place?" Sir Richard demanded, before adding: "Must I really go over the whole legend again?" When Amonella said nothing, and he instead received only the deathly silence of the forest as an answer, Sir Richard sighed and said with weary resignation: "Very well, if I must, I must." As the group continued moving, as they did navigating past some trees that had fallen over, Sir Richard began his story: "Long ago, back during the Great Invasion, there existed here a large group of Wood Elves. The clan's presence was such that it covered whole swaths of the forest, and they lived in peace with the Fey creatures who also called these woods home. Tragically, this was also the place where a nexus was opened up, one that Demons, Devils, and Yugoloths spewed forth out of. After that, the Wood Elves vanished from this place, either killed or left. These woods then are in essence a mass graveyard, a place where countless Wood Elves perished, the emptiness a testament to what was once here and is now forever lost."

"I take it the army of Fiends killed everything else here too then?" Amonella asked as she nervously stepped over some shrubbery and bushes that were long dead.

The Paladin nodded. "Yes, so it goes. Nothing here was spared. They say you can still hear emanating from these woods the moaning, sorrowful cries of Pixies who were incinerated and Elf Maidens who lost their husbands and sons in battle. You would do well to not trust any sound you hear in these woods."

"And…what happened to the Fiends who came here?"

It was here that Yilvik spoke up in place of the Paladin. "Well to that lass, I suggest you just look out at that." Yilvik pointed his battle-axe forwards and Amonella and everyone else present looked out at the first true "thing" they had seen in the forest yet: a large number of skeletons that stretched out a fair distance. Many of them were clad in remnants of rusted or half-destroyed armor, and the weapons littered about were in overall worse shape, most of them broken and smashed to bits. But it was what they surrounded that also caught everyone's attention. It resembled a large crater, within which more skeletons were present, most of them missing entire chunks and looking badly charred. A holy symbol of the Elven Gods was clearly imprinted in the blackened dirt, indicating that this had been the site of the Abyssal Breach, and in turn where it had been closed off.

"So they did succeed in closing it…" Sir Richard muttered. "We had always feared that they had failed and that that was why Demons and Devils continued to roam rampant throughout the kingdom. But clearly those were just the few who had escaped destruction during the initial invasion." Sir Richard saluted with his broadsword. "May your Gods grant you peace brave souls. You did well to seal up this breach."

"That's all very sweet and all, but I'm still looking for my treasures over here." Verriz pointed out irritably before adding: "…and I'm not keen on just wandering about aimlessly forever until we happen to find the Beholder's treasure trove. Or until we die of old age."

"I agree." Zylax said. "We need a better strategy. I'd consider having us split up, that way we could cover more ground, but we have no way of alerting each-other if one of us stumbles upon the treasure trove…" Zylax put his hand to his pointed chin, adopting the classic "thinking man's pose" as he considered his options. While this was happening, Lileris again placed a black gloved hand to her temple, this time shutting her eyes more tightly as her face contorted into a look of extreme discomfort, almost as though she were standing barefoot on a sheet of ice.

"There is no need for that. I think I may now have a greater inkling as to where the Beholder's lair is. As Sir Richard has made clear, the Beholder would be deep in the forest, and I believe it would find a place near this site of butchery appealing. So much death near it's lair might scare off would-be intruders. More to the point I am detecting not just evil energy but also other energies as well. Other kinds of magical power than just fell sorcery."

"Then I think it best we head in that direction." Zylax decided resolutely. "Lead the way Lileris."

Lileris nodded and walked off to the left of the site of the massacre. The others began to follow one by one. Amonella though lingered, seeing among the dead Wood Elf skeletons a glittering short sword that unlike most of the other weapons had not been destroyed. The intricate design on the short blade no doubt attracted her as well. Reaching for it, she was stopped by Ironfoot, who placed himself between Amonella and the sword and shook his head.

"What's your problem?" Amonella asked with a frown.

"He's being smart." Nyx said matter-of-factly. "Trust me when I say you don't want to touch anything that's been lying near an Abyssal Breach for so long."

"But the breach was closed!" Amonella protested.

"The taint remains. We're here for the Beholder's treasure Amonella. And _only_ that treasure."

Amonella sighed. "Oh, alright fine. Seems like a waste of a good short sword though. I could have used it."

"I'm sure there will be plenty of weapons from dead adventurers you can take for yourself once we find the Beholder's treasure trove." Nyx said reassuringly. "Now come on, let's catch up with the others."

As Lileris continued to lead the company through the Dread Wood, those same "haunting sounds" Sir Richard Zachary had warned of began to be heard. A soft, distant, haunting moan pierced the ears of several members of the company, each of them reacting in a different way. The two Dwarves ignored it and trudged on as though they'd heard nothing, but the others were not so unfazed. Verriz scowled and began to quicken his pace, his dark eyes squinting as his pointed ears became perked up for any sign of a sound indicating something more threatening than a sad Pixie's ghost. Nyx's pointed ears were also raised on the alert, but more than that she found the haunting sounds resonated with her in some way. When she heard the moans and distant wails that could have easily come from an Elf Maiden as old as her or younger, Nyx realized deep down that she too had moaned and wailed once. She too had lost a loved one in battle.

It was then that Nyx also quickened her pace.

-X-

"They came this way." The Drow Rogue noted simply.

"What makes you so certain of that?" questioned the Rogue's current employer, a tall, slender man with a loud voice who made demands a lot. "I can see from here that there are no footprints to tell you who came this way and who didn't."

"My tracking intuitions do not lie." The Rogue, Viseria, said icily. "And besides, I can smell one of my kin kilometers away, and I can smell the sickening purity of the Silvan bitch from even further away."

"You Drow and your hatred of the Elves…" the man muttered. He was unconcerned with Viseria running him through for making so light of her people's natural rivalry with the Elves. He was paying her very well for her services, but also had the money waiting in a vault that Viseria for all of her skills could never hope to access on her own. She needed him alive if she wanted her pay.

But there was no guarantee that she wouldn't kill him after getting it.

Viseria kept such a thought to herself of course. She remained silent as she continued to follow the "scent" of both the High Elf who had come through here and also her fellow Drow. The more she followed the two scents, the more Viseria knew they were traveling together. An Elf and a Drow, together in anything but warfare against the other. The very thought of it sickened Viseria to no end, though she also suspected that whatever alliance those two had was not necessarily a cheerful one.

"I don't trust that one." Whispered Bastion, the Man-At-Arms who had stayed loyal to the crown's rightful succession after the Black Knight assumed power.

Prince Barnabas rolled his eyes. "Obviously not. No sensible person trusts a Drow. But we need her nonetheless."

"I still think this expedition is a fool's errand." Bastion said before adding: "…and a damned dangerous one at that. No one…"

"…who comes into the Sea of Black Roots ever comes back out again, I know." Prince Barnabas said in a tested tone before adding resolutely: "But a great treasure is buried here, one that will help me get my father's throne back and prove that I am the legitimate heir, not that black clad scoundrel who now sits on my father's throne."

"You don't even know if the Staff of Kings is here." Bastion said. He didn't expect anything to come out of his protests, as Prince Barnabas had ignored them up to this point. The only reason Bastion was now following Barnabas at all was purely out of loyalty to the crown's rightful succession, not because he approved of the mission.

"It's here alright." Prince Barnabas said. "My great grandfather was one of many to go challenging that Beholder when he heard it was here. They say he was the one who finally managed to kill the beast you know, albeit at the cost of his own life. All of his men were killed too, down to the last squire, so there was no one left to bring back the staff. But if I can brave these damned, dreary woods and get the Staff of Kings back, then all will see that I do truly deserve my father's throne. The Black Knight Sir Donovan will be at last overthrown."

"I wish I shared your optimism my liege." Bastion said, as he did sighing deeply as he felt the slight ache in his legs act up again, making his trek through the dreary black ground of the woods more dreary still. The Man-At-Arms was approaching middle-age and did not wear his forty-five years as well as he would want. His brown beard was becoming steadily gray and his hair followed suit. He retained the musculature that he had in his youth, but he still seemed to move just a bit slower now when he fought. He was also finding it harder to swing his sword about with the same speed, precision, and skill he had before.

Simply put, Bastion's glory days were as dead as his old king, who had suffered even worse from the passage of time. In fact, it had been part of the reason why he was dead now. No one knew how old or young Sir Donovan was, for he was never seen without his helmet, but he moved and fought as well as Bastion had when he was half his current age, possibly even better. Privately Bastion seriously doubted that his prince, who Bastion himself had personally taught how to fight, would be able to turn the tables on the deadly Black Knight with a staff, no matter how powerful it supposedly was.

"Malice lies heavy in the air here…" noted the short gray man who represented the other half of the mercenary duo Prince Barnabas had hired. Torun, was his name. A fierce Duergar warrior armed with a silver-gray warhammer longer than his entire body but still something the dark Dwarf could swing about with total ease courtesy of his muscular arms. The snow colored beard that decorated his chin and cheeks and went down almost to his stomach seemed to sway a little bit as he moved. Whether he had any hair on his head or not was something Bastion never knew, as he always wore a steel gray helm with numerous dents and dings in it that also featured a nasal that brushed up against the Duergar's upper lip.

"I feel it too." Bastion admitted, nervously looking this way and that. The trek through the forest was prompting the normally stoic and relaxed Man-At-Arms to quicken his pace. He felt a chill running up and down his spine and his hairs stood up even though he was wearing a breastplate and a chainmail coat beneath that. And all the while he felt as though something was watching him too, something other than the eyes of his prince…

"Fair warning skinny." The Duergar remarked coldly to Prince Barnabas: "If I die here, my kin will piss on your grave."

"Don't get vulgar with me mercenary. You knew the risks when you and your…'partner' agreed to work for me."

"Only 'cause there's a reward. If I don't see that reward, my kin reply accordingly. That's how it goes."

Prince Barnabas rolled his eyes and snorted contemptuously but said nothing. As the group continued to move though, Viseria's pointed ears picked up a sound. She held out an arm. "Everyone stop moving right now. We're not alone."

Torun was the first to obey, followed by Bastion. Prince Barnabas was last to acquiesce, not used to taking orders, but nevertheless complied. As they all did this, Viseria drew an arrow from her boiled black leather quiver and readied it. She kept her ears tuned to any sound that suggested something was coming their way. For a few moments, there was nothing. But then, the sound of something shambling, snaking across the ground could be heard. Viseria spun around so fast she almost seemed a blur to the eyes of Prince Barnabas and Bastion, and sent a long black arrow tipped with poison into the direction of the sound. There was the sound of an impact, and Viseria narrowed her mist-colored eyes at whatever it was she had struck, darkness and the fog of the forest both making it difficult to tell outright. But then she saw.

The arrow had struck a humanoid figure in it's right breast. The thing was hunched over but still quite tall in spite of that, and appeared a shambling mound of dark, gray-green colored creepers. Black holes were where eyes would be on any living creature, and it's mouth was stuck in a frown, nay, a scowl. Despite having been shot with a poisoned arrow, the thing showed no sign of slowing down. In fact, as the poison went through the thing's system, it seemed to be rejuvenated, striding forward more confidently.

"Damn. Figures I went and poisoned something that's already been poisoned…" Viseria drew her scimitar as she said this, and readied it. Bastion and Torun followed suit with their longsword and warhammer respectively, while Prince Barnabas for his part readied his halberd.

"What, pray tell is this thing?" Prince Barnabas demanded to his two mercenaries.

"A Blight." Viseria noted matter-of-factly. "A Vine Blight to be exact. I hope one of you idiots brought fire, because there's sure to be more where this one came from…"

-X-

It was shortly after the company had set up camp when they met them.

After walking through the Dread Woods for a while, putting a fair bit of distance between them and the site of the Abyssal Breach now long closed, the company decided it was time to finally stop and rest for a brief moment. They didn't intend to rest for long, as the place they were in did not encourage rest. Thus, no tents were set up, no sleeping sacks unrolled. Instead the group just chose to sit for a moment, some resting up against the trunk of a tree that had long ago fallen over. It's roots were so gray and dead that when Nyx touched some of them, they broke off and turned to dust in her black gloved hand.

"Something's wrong." Lileris noted. "This place…we're not alone."

This remark got everyone's attention. They'd become so accustomed to the forest being abandoned that the news of their being someone or something else out there was something that demanded elaboration.

"Who else is here?" Zylax asked. "Do you know anything about them?"

"They are native to these woods. They are not natural manifestations of the forest though, at least not the way Fey are. No, these things are darker. More evil. We're being watched."

At the sound of this, Nyx began to finger the hilt of her Moonblade while meanwhile the Dwarves Yilvik and Darnis held their battle-axes more tightly. These actions swiftly proved to be justified when a large number of creatures made their presence known. They all darted towards the group, and this in turn prompted everyone in the party to strike back. Magic spells from Lileris, Verriz, and Darnis shot out, briefly lighting up the darkened wood. Ironfoot struck out with his namesake so hard he punched a hole in the torso of one of the things, and Nyx let fly with arrows.

As she watched the arrows embed themselves in the desired targets, Nyx got to get a better look at what the creatures were. They were short, no taller than Ironfoot or the Dwarves, and resembled messes of tree-branches cobbled together into walking entities. Indeed, the second Darnis shot out a blast of fire at some of them, the ones closest to it were turned into a pile of black ash while other scampered off into the darkness. Seeing this, Nyx drew not another arrow but instead her Moonblade. Brilliant blue fire enveloped the silver sword-blade the second Nyx unsheathed it, and every swing of it reduced one of the creatures to ash, also sending fleeing what ones were not struck.

The ambush was over almost as soon as it had begun. Clearly the creatures were not expecting such powerful displays of fire, nor did they realize their would-be prey was far from tired and helpless. This suggested to Nyx that they weren't terribly bright.

Nyx didn't mind though. The less hardship she and the company encountered in the Dread Wood, the better. She sheathed her Moonblade, the flames of which dissipated as it was put back in the scabbard. Though Nyx had picked up a fair array of skills from her many decades of living with the Wood Elves, it had been among her own people that she'd learned how to fight with a sword.

Yilvik for his part was less pleased with the ease of the party's victory: "Oh fi. The buggers fled before I could even get a one." Yilvik shook his head and made a "tsk tsk" sound. "No sport."

"The pitiful little things were made of wood! The perfect foes for my fire powers!" Darnis said confidently.

"They were Twig Blights." Sir Richard said matter-of-factly. "I was told of these creatures during my studies. I suspected they might be here. And if they are, then the other kinds of Blights will be as well."

"What are Blights anyway?" asked Yilvik.

"Plant-like monstrosities that have been given mobility and malevolence in equal amounts by the Gulthias Tree that is almost certainly located somewhere in this wretched place."

"And…what's a Gulthias Tree?"

"Bother! Must I explain everything? Have none of you ever studied up on the dangers of the wild?"

Yilvik held up his hands. "I grew up fighting Goblins, Kobolds, and Bugbears in that order. And of course everyone's heard of Dragons and Giants. But I never got any more broad a knowledge of beasties than that."

Sir Richard sighed, and it was here that Nyx chose to explain: "A Gulthias Tree is what happens when some kind of evil mind or power comes to corrupt and infect a tree or plant, at which point that evil spreads to other plants, infecting them and turning them into Blights."

"Finally!" Sir Richard said. "Someone else with knowledge on these things. I was beginning to fear I was the only one."

Nyx nodded before continuing: "My guess is all of the dead Demons, Devils, and Yugoloths in this forest was more than enough to give root to at least one Gulthias Tree. And all it takes is one to do this to an entire forest. But there could be as many as a hundred scattered throughout the Dread Wood."

"These things were waiting for us." Amonella pointed out. "I think that means we don't want to stay still."

"I agree." Zylax said with a nod of approval. "We move out now. Lileris, how much farther until we get to the Beholder's Lair?"

"Not far." Lileris said. "I can sense the power of the magical artifacts it has accumulated quite clearly now. Two in particular stand out to me. If we move out now we can get there in mere minutes."

Zylax smiled. "Excellent. Then let's not waste anymore time here. Off we go!"

-X-

When Viseria had warned that there would be more Blights, she had not been lying.

More of the walking mounds of creepers that were Vine Blights had appeared out of the shadows to accost the four, who responded by hacking and slashing at them or in the case of Torun slamming his warhammer into them. But then other Blights began to appear. Twig Blights shot out of the ground and darted towards the four, but more swings from Torun's warhammer were usually sufficient to smash them to splinters.

As the group continued to fight though, sounds of something other than the battle began to fill their ears, ringing like some monstrous alarm and threatening to unbalance them as they fought. Sounds of some far off-struggle, the screams of men and women other than them, indecipherable calls and pleas from voices not their own, all of these things filling their ears as they tried desperately to keep concentrating on the battle at hand.

"What the bloody hell is all this racket!?" Torun demanded as he swung out with his hammer again, this time striking a Twig Blight so hard it's head went flying a good couple feet.

"Ignore it and keep fighting!" Viseria demanded, slashing wildly with her scimitar, which she found to be most adept at cutting through Vine Blights as meanwhile Bastion and his prince fought back-to-back against encroaching Twig Blights.

By now several dead Blights littered the forest floor of the place they were in, the branches and vines that had made up their being now a disorganized mess and lacking any of the structure they had had when the Blights were still alive.

Then something else entered the scene. A large, towering creature that looked almost like a small tree made mobile. It's facial features were long, with a drooping mouth and large nostrils almost as big as it's eyes. It was covered with sharp thorns from head to heels, and no sooner did it have the four in it's sights did it raise it's arms.

"Move!" shouted Bastion, as he did instinctively pushing Prince Barnabas to the ground. And he did so not a moment too soon, as this new Blight let fly with a barrage of needles that punched holes in everything they struck, be it nearby trees or other Blights unfortunate enough to be in the way at the time. One needle managed to hit Bastion, but his breastplate held. Another managed to shoot Viseria's scimitar right out of her hand. The Drow cursed loudly, calling on Lolth to damn the Needle Blight straight to the Abyss before darting to one side to avoid the second barrage of needles the Blight unleashed.

"We can't fight it! Follow me!"

Neither Bastion or Prince Barnabas offered any objection or protest, instead following Viseria as she ran through the woods, not even bothering to try and reclaim her lost scimitar. Torun also began to flee, all the while grunting and panting as he ran. One needle struck him in the back of the shoulder area but he pushed on. Another struck him on his helmeted head, adding another dent to the old piece of headwear, but still he ran.

The group kept running until suddenly, Viseria's foot came down hard on something soft that gave way beneath her. Viseria swore loudly again as she was flung forward and went tumbling down a steep slope covered in wet leaves and black dirt.

Snarling, the Drow forced herself back up, angrily brushing some loose leaves off of her black and gray clothes and cape before realizing that the slope had led to a door of some kind. One that the skeleton of a Gnoll lay at, the monster having clawed at the door in a vain and desperate attempt to get it open. Seeing that only one rusted lock that the Gnoll had been too stupid to try and pick was there, Viseria's lips formed into a grim smirk. Turning to her "allies", she called out: "Stand firm and hold them off! I can pick the lock on this door!"

Bastion nodded and took up position in front of Prince Barnabas, holding out his shield to provide a second layer of protection. Torun arrived just ahead of the Blights, with several of the Twig variety hot on his heels and right behind him. No sooner did Torun stop and turn did he swing out with his warhammer, and three Twig Blight's heads exploded in showers of splinters as the hammer collided with each of them in turn. The Duergar allowed a cruel smile of satisfaction at this before backpedaling and putting himself behind Bastion. Such a last stand proved unnecessary though, for by this point Viseria had already cracked the lock and tossed it to the side. Shouting at Torun to aid her, she and the Duergar forced the doors open and made their way inside. For a minute they considered closing and locking the gates and leaving Prince Barnabas and his loyal Man-At-Arms to their fate, but remembering the promised reward thought better of it and held the gates open long enough for the two get in. They closed them just as the towering Needle Blight showed up again and let fly with another barrage. The needles failed to get past the gates, which the group then locked from the inside, as they did silently thanking their various respective deities that whoever had designed the gate had not thought to do the same.

"Now we'll just have to hope the bastards can't just break it down." Torun noted.

"I suspect that if they could they would have done so already." Viseria said. She turned to Prince Barnabas: "Well prince, we seem to have found an entrance of some kind. If I had to hazard a guess it's an entrance to the Beholder's lair. Which means the prize you seek is within your reach."

Prince Barnabas smiled at the thought. "Only one way to find out though. We must face whatever long dark this place contains."

-X-

"This is the entrance." Lileris said as the group at last came to the place they had sought since entering the Dread Wood.

The entrance in question was one with a large, dinted metal gate. Rust seemed to line the gate, but Zylax found it to be firmly locked anyway. He tried to force them open just to see if the rust was so bad the doors would give way with enough pressure, but they held firm.

"Well, so much for the simple solution." Zylax muttered. He turned to Darnis. "Do you think one of your Magic Missiles might be powerful enough to blast these doors down?"

Darnis shrugged and then said: "Perhaps. But know that even _I_ possess limits Half-Elf. It is likely I could dent the gate, weaken it. But to force it wide open, I am not so sure."

"What if you, Lileris, and Verriz all unleashed a magic attack at once?" Zylax questioned. He knew of course that the disciplines of a Warlock and of a Mystic were not the same as the disciplines of a Conjurer, but even so, all three possessed potent offensive magic. He was willing to bet that together they could smite many a foe, and certainly a locked door that was rusting.

"Perhaps Ironfoot could try to unlock the gate." Nyx suggested. "We do have a master lockpick with us after all."

Zylax nodded. "Yes, yes you're quite right. Ironfoot, do what you can."

Ironfoot nodded and made his way over to the gate, his namesake being the only thing about him to make a sound. With his stature he did not need to kneel to work, but instead stood on the tips of his remaining foot's toes. He took out his lockpicking tools and began looking for a place in the gate where he could put them to good use. He soon found a lock and got to work. As he did, the same sounds that had been haunting the company during their time in the forest began to fill everyone's ears again, but this time it was different.

Images accompanied the voices, images that at first flashed by briefly, much too quickly to mean much at first, but gradually they started to become more lengthily, more detailed, and more disturbing. Flashes of fire, and bloodshed appeared in front of many in the party even though neither was present. They saw the faces of people, of Elves and Satyrs and Sprites and Pixies, all contorted into screams of horror and agony. They saw images of bloodstained weapons raised, a Balor roaring in fury, smashing aside hapless Elves with every swing of it's lightning sword or burning whip, the latter only adding to the raging inferno.

It was Nyx in particular who saw these things come and go. Looking back on it she did not ever know why she saw them the most. Certainly the others had too, but it was she who saw all of these images and more in the most detail. Was it because she too was an Elf and thus felt the strongest connection to the massacre that had happened here? Was it because some greater power was trying to reach out to her specifically for some special purpose? Or was she just plain unlucky? Nyx didn't know. But what she _did_ know was that when she saw one image in particular, that of a Nalfeshnee dining on dead Sprites and Pixies the way a normal person would fine cuisine, blood staining all of it's massive tusks, Nyx felt ready to scream. She drew her Moonblade instinctively and held it out, the blade again becoming wreathed in blue fire that's light did well to illuminate her face and show the tremendous anxiety in her eyes.

By this point everyone was looking at the High Elf, and all of them with either fear, suspicion, or both. Verriz was reaching for both his wand and his curved dagger, clearly thinking that Nyx was going to try and kill him and use his being a Drow as justification. But then, after a few moments more, Nyx felt herself become calmer. The images began to fade from vision and mind and for a moment it seemed, memory, even though Nyx knew that she would remember the horrors she'd seen forever. And it was because she knew that they were not really an illusion. No, those things had happened, once. She was simply bearing witness to the horrors of the past. Horrors that the awful power of this place had been able to summon forth for visitors like her to witness.

There was a "clink" sound as Ironfoot finished picking the lock to the gates, which Zylax then opened without any trouble. A great, black maw opened up, waiting to swallow whole any who dared to go in.

Zylax was grinning ear to ear. "This is it my friends. The moment of truth. We now enter the lair of the Beholder, and in so doing come that much closer to claiming our many prizes."

All present nodded silently, and without any real hesitation or trepidation moved forward into the blackness, with Zylax as always taking charge. They all did this not because they particularly wanted to go into the dark, foreboding place. Not even because their charismatic leader was telling them to and respected him for it. But simply because they had all come to truly hate the Dread Wood and were desperate to get out of it, even if it meant trading one dark place for another.

And indeed, the journey from here would only become darker and more treacherous still. For though they were now inside the lair, they were not truly out of the Dread Wood.

**Author's Note: And there you have it. I was determined to finish this before Halloween was over, and I managed to finish the first chapter at least. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did writing it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: This wasn't really ever intended to be a multi-chapter story, but it seems that no matter how hard I try I'm destined to keep doing more and more of those. Ah well. It's not like the story's bad though. I hope everyone enjoys the second chapter!**

**And for those who are curious, the Dramatis Personae for the second group's members:**

**Prince Barnabas: Male Human Noble-Lawful Neutral**

**Bastion: Male Human Fighter and Veteran-Lawful Neutral**

**Viseria: Female Drow Rogue-Neutral Evil**

**Torun: Male Duergar Fighter and Mercenary-Neutral Evil**

The company found that "dingy" was a very fine word to describe the inside of the Beholder's lair. The cobbled stone of the path was worn and dull, and the walls were the same. Loose drops of water formed on the ceiling above, and then dripped down periodically. Nyx and Amonella adjusted to the pitch blackness of the corridor the best, their Elven and Vampiric eyes respectively allowing them to pierce the shroud of darkness.

Shroud, that was another thing to be wary of, as a place such as this would be an ideal hunting ground for Shadows and other foul Undead. And isolationist they might be, but Beholders did still sometimes employ other wicked or stupid creatures as minions from time to time. And just because the Beholder itself was dead did not mean that any underlings it might have were.

But as the company continued to cautiously inch forward ever more, they were not beset by any such monsters or creatures. Amonella and Nyx had by now pushed themselves to the front of the group, as along with their Drow companion they could see best in the dark, and Verriz had no strong impulse to bravely lead from the front. Instead, he did as he always did: brought up the rear.

When the group came to a flight of stairs, Nyx and Amonella stopped and held out their hands as an indication for the rest of the group to stop. After testing the steps to make sure they were not slippery or else booby-trapped in some way, the High Elf and Dhampir indicated that it was safe for them to make their way down. It was no less dark down this stairway though, and the trek down was a slow, cautious one. And as they went down further, a foul, putrid air filled the eyes and noses of everyone present, causing many of them to tightly close their eyes and scrunch up their faces. It was not even solely a bad smell or odor like the kind a rotting corpse gave off, rather part of it was just a feeling of something intense and oppressive lurking below. Something that had the added effect of making the hairs on everyone stand up on end. Even Verriz the Drow, who had lived his whole adolescent life in both the darkness and depravity of his people's cities, felt a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach as he descended last.

At long last though, some dim light seemed to shine through. The mere sight of it inspired many in the company to quicken their pace to reach it and get out of the miserable darkness surrounding them. Finally they reached the end, and the dim light was now a brighter one that bathed them all in it's rays. But warmth was not the company's to enjoy, and in the end the only benefit they got from the weak fires illuminating the chamber was vision.

"Somehow I don't think this place is the treasure trove…" Amonella noted as she looked around.

"You're telling me lass. There's nothing here! Not a bloody thing!" Yilvik shook his head as he said this.

"There is one thing…" Darnis noted, as he did pointing to a skeleton that was once of one of the humanoid races slumped up against a wall. The build suggested either Elf or Man, possibly a Half-Elf, and it was still wearing an old breastplate. Most of it's other clothes were in a decidedly bad shape but still technically intact. That ceased to be the case though when Darnis promptly hurled a fireball right at the skeleton, enveloping it in intense red-orange flames. Walking over to it, Darnis then swung out with his battle-axe and took the skull clean off.

"What the bloody hell are you doing!?" demanded Yilvik incredulously.

"Taking a precaution." Darnis said simply. "In a place like this, inert piles of bones don't always stay that way." The Dwarf's eyes saw the knife lying near the skeleton that had managed to avoid the flames of Darnis' attack. Picking it up, he pocketed it.

"Stay sharp." Zylax said. "It may not have been the Beholder that killed whoever that was. There may be other creatures lurking about in this place…"

By this point Zylax himself had drawn his weapons. The Company had long ago noted at this point that their fearless leader clearly specialized in words more than he did swordplay, and unlike many of the others did not have his weapons drawn regularly, instead only drawing them when absolutely necessary. And this then was one such time, the Half-Elf clutching a cutlass in one hand, and a ranger's longsword in the other.

Past the illuminated room was another hallway, but this one was a bit better lit, and movement through it was a good deal easier. It wasn't that much farther through the hallway though before the company came upon several different paths that all led in different directions. Hung on the wall over each pathway was a different symbol, one of a ram's skull, one of a wolf's head, another of a serpent's jaws, and the final one of a single great eye.

It was Amonella who asked the obvious question: "So…which one do we take?"

"I put my money on the one with the eye." Verriz said. "Everyone knows Beholders have a lot of eyes."

"Ah, but then it may be a trick. Have the obvious answer be the incorrect one. I suggest we take the one with the Serpent's Jaws."

"What makes you so sure that's the one?" Nyx asked. Zylax turned to face her directly. "Nothing really, just putting forth my best guess." He smiled. "You're welcome to suggest a different route."

Yilvik turned to Lileris. "What about you? Can you sense which direction is the right one to go down?"

Lileris shook her head. "No. There is so much evil and dark, negative energy in this place on all sides that I feel as though I'm being smothered. Drowning even. In all honesty I am completely blind down here as far as my mystical senses go."

"Well then a bloody load of good help you are to us!" Verriz snarled venomously.

"Verriz, shut up." Nyx replied bluntly before turning back around to look out at the different paths. "I do agree that the one with the eye seems too likely a route. I don't fancy on going through the one with jaws of a poisonous creature but maybe that's the point." Nyx nodded. "Alright fine. Let's go through that one and see where it takes us."

Zylax nodded approvingly and gave the order for everyone to move down that passage. As he did, Nyx found herself silently taking note of how calm she remained in spite of the situation, and also how they were now being forced to make what was in no uncertain terms a gamble. For a High Elf in particular this was noteworthy. With their lives being as potentially long as they were, most Elves tended to become either very complacent or reckless with their safety due to their longevity, while others went in the opposite direction and became determined to ensure that they'd get every last one of their many long years of life.

Nyx though was perhaps more in the middle. Certainly, she didn't want to die, but she was approaching middle age for her race's standards and was also a widow without children. She was not as cripplingly afraid of death, and confident enough in her abilities that she reasoned she could take the risk. Even the fear of losing her beloved husband's Moonblade was not present, as Moonblades could not be wielded by too many different people anyway, only members of the original wielder's bloodline who were judged to be worthy.

As it was, she was going to have to be fighting desperately for her life very soon.

No sooner did Zylax and Amonella walk beneath the pass with the symbol of a Snake's Jaws did a solid wall of stone shoot out from the ground, blocking off the passage and trapping the company's leader and assassin both. Nyx pounded on the wall but knew it was useless. She shouted out to Zylax and Amonella, but as she did her nose began to smell the distant scent of something burning. Whipping around, Nyx saw the corridor with the symbol of an eye over it become bright orange and red as though it were the entrance to Hell or the Abyss. Perhaps in a way it was.

Shouting out to the others to get out of the way, Nyx directed the company to the other two corridors just as a massive torrent of fire shot forth from out of the fourth corridor. The flames filled up the entire area, and had the company's members still been there they'd have surely perished. Instead, Nyx, Verriz, and Sir Richard went through the corridor with the symbol of a wolf's head, while the other four members of the company all went through the corridor that had overlooking it the symbol of a ram's skull. And no sooner did each group make their way underneath each symbol did a wall of stone rise to seal off the corridor.

The company had now been split into three groups, and after much shouting all soon found that they could not hear the others.

"It would seem our venture into this place just became all the more treacherous." Darnis noted as he examined the stone wall sealing off the corridor he, Yilvik, Ironfoot, and Lileris were now all stuck in. "…we now brave whatever horrors and monsters lie here not as a united front but divided into thirds. And we all know what happens to those who are divided…"

-X-

Privately Bastion found himself grateful for once that Prince Barnabas had hired the two mercenaries.

Members of cutthroat species they might be, but Drow and Duergars knew dark, underground, labyrinthine places better than most, and with any luck they would be able to effectively guide Bastion and his prince through the Beholder's lair and to the treasure trove. Then they could find the damned staff, get out of the miserable place, and with good fortune on their side put the whole miserable business behind them.

Even though, somehow, Bastion doubted things would go quite so smoothly.

"Any idea how deep this place goes?" Prince Barnabas asked Viseria as the four continued to move.

"Why the hell are you asking me?" the Drow Rogue demanded. "Not all underground places were built by my people. I've never seen this place before in my life."

"I'd keep your head down and your ears perked up if ya want to live." Torun remarked coldly as the four descended a flight of stairs. By now the Duergar had patched up his shoulder injury and was moving on as though he'd never even been hit by the needle. "…if the Beholder had any sense to him he'd have booby-trapped this place, or else filled it with other beasts to help him kill anyone dumb enough to come looking for his loot. Might have done both."

"Only one way to find out for certain though." Prince Barnabas noted as he kept his halberd held out at the ready, waiting to skewer anything that came by that he didn't like. Which at this point was anything that wasn't him, Bastion, or the mercenaries.

The four went a little but further before coming to a circular shaped room that featured in it's center a large, great hole that was easily over ten feet in width. Looking down it, Prince Barnabas saw nothing but empty blackness, a great pit of shadow beckoning him to take a leap.

Backing away, Prince Barnabas turned to Bastion. "Some rope will be required here old friend."

Bastion nodded and took from his travelling sack a long rope with a hook attached to the end of it. Walking over to the edge of the pit, he fastened the hook to the edge and then made sure it was secure. "I'll go down first." He said. As the Man-At-Arms slowly descended into the pit, the rope going down further and further with him as he used more and more of it to complete the descent, Prince Barnabas silently took note of the pit's existence, and realized that it was ideally suited for a Beholder. As the creatures levitated, such a pit would pose no issue to it, but would for would-be interlopers and intruders. Thus a perfect design strategy. This in turn told Prince Barnabas that there was sure to be more such pits.

"I'm down!" Called out Bastion's voice, but the distance ensured that it was faint even with the echo provided. Looking down, Barnabas and the mercenaries could not see him, but decided to believe he had made it down successfully anyway. Prince Barnabas held out a hand as an indication for Viseria to go down next. "Ladies first." He said with a smile.

Viseria scowled, knowing the real reason for Barnabas' wanting her to go first. The prince was still not convinced she and her partner would not try and betray him in spite of his promised payment to her, but in the end she reasoned he was probably right to be suspicious. Didn't make it any less infuriating for her though.

Reluctantly Viseria made her way over to the rope and descended into the pit same as Bastion had. When she landed, she saw that Bastion was alive and well and waiting for her. Trying to contain her disappointment that he hadn't been killed by some creature or another, Viseria looked up and waited for Torun and Prince Barnabas to make their way down. It was the Duergar who came first of the two, his stocky frame and short stature ensuring that he was forced to go extra slowly. Finally, Prince Barnabas himself reached the bottom in his own good time.

"Now then…" he said. "Let's see what waits for us beyond this passageway."

The group of four continued to move forward, going past a wide entrance that featured no doors but did noticeably have over it's entrance the symbol of a hand. While Torun and Prince Barnabas paid this detail no heed and pressed on, Bastion and Viseria were a bit more perceptive, and with it suspicious.

"How far deep do you think that Beholder dug?" Prince Barnabas asked as the four continued to walk, now moving through a dark, dank cavernous place that had stalactites and stalagmites littering the ceiling and ground respectively.

"Likely very deep indeed." Viseria noted before adding: "The Beholder here was alive for a very long time as I understand it. Hence the purported size of his hoard."

"I can only hope it is not so deep that we will be unable to leave once we reach the heart of this place…" The Prince trailed off before his ears picked up the sound of something from above coming down. Instinctively shooting out with his halberd, Prince Barnabas gave out a gasp as he heard the sound of his weapon's point impaling itself on some creature's flesh, followed by the shriek of said creature. Looking up, Prince Barnabas saw that he had skewered the underside of a creature with many squid-like appendages dangling from it's unfurled bottom. Swinging down with his halberd, Prince Barnabas withdrew his weapon and stared out at the beast as it hit the ground. He could now see that it's head was akin to that of a squid's, but the color of light brown stone and with four massive, blank yellow eyes.

The injury Barnabas had dealt the creature had soundly robbed it of it's desire to do battle, and it slunk away into the darkness, awkwardly fumbling about as it's tentacles flopped around desperately and it took to dragging it's body across the ground, leaving behind a trail of blood as it did.

"It is not likely to survive an injury like that." Torun noted matter-of-factly.

"I don't suppose you know what that thing was?"

"Darkmantle." Viseria said. "Mostly native to the Underdark."

"Are there likely to be more of them?"

Viseria's lips formed a cruel smile. "Possibly."

-X-

"Sir Richard!?" Zylax called out, banging on the walls and shouting. When he got no answer, as had been the case before, Zylax shook his head. "Ah, that settles it. We're on our own now my dear."

"So we're trapped in here now?" Amonella demanded.

"Fret not Amonella." Zylax said reassuringly. "The quest is not over yet and neither is our story. We may just be able to reunite with the others yet. For now though, we must push on."

Amonella nodded, even though she did not like the Half-Elf's flippant attitude regarding the whole situation. Nevertheless, the two moved forward down the long hallway. The place was featureless, the walls, floor, and ceiling all bare and the stone a drab tan. But then after a while, Amonella's eyes noticed something.

"Zylax, look at this."

Zylax turned to see what Amonella was regarding. It was the skeleton of a humanoid, slumped over, and looking a lot like…

"It's the same skeleton Darnis burned. What's it doing here?"

"That can't be right though." Zylax said, shaking his head as he did. "As you said, Darnis burned that skeleton, and it was immobile anyways. How can this be the same skeleton?"

"Zylax, it's exactly the same as the one we saw earlier! It's the same size, the same ruined clothes, everything's the same! It even has lying at it's side the same knife!" Amonella pointed to the knife to emphasize her point, and Zylax noted that it did indeed look exactly like the one Darnis had pocketed after burning the first skeleton.

"How strange…" Zylax muttered. "It would seem all is not at it appears in this place."

"Somehow I think the surprises will only get worse the deeper we go."

"I agree." Zylax said with a nod before adding: "…but even so, deeper down is the only direction we _can_ go at this point. So let us not delay."

Zylax and Amonella walked on, continuing down the hallway until at last they came to a door, this one tall, wooden, and with no visible nob to turn. However, it still opened after Zylax pressed his hand against it and gave it a push. Moving through the doorway, Zylax and Amonella came upon a large cavernous room covered in darkness and with few visible shapes to suggest that there was anything in the room besides them. No sooner did they enter the room in full did the door shut itself behind them. Zylax and Amonella whipped around at the sight, with the former trying the door and finding it unmoving. Turning back around, the two saw in the center of the room they were in a massive pit. It hadn't been visible before, but now the two's keen eyesight had adjusted to the dark a bit and allowed them to see it clearly for what it was. Discerning what was at the bottom though remained impossible to do. Nevertheless, with no other way out of the room they were stuck in, the two decided to go for it.

As Zylax held onto one end of a rope, Amonella clutched the other end tightly as she went down the pit. Going down enough, Amonella was eventually able to see what was at the bottom of the pit, namely another large pit, this one filled with great spikes that jutted outwards. The bones of some poor souls who had perished there filled it as well.

_A spike trap. __**Very **__original._

Looking out further, Amonella could see that an area of cobbled stone lined the spike pit, and thus told her that she and Zylax were not necessarily destined to be impaled. Going as further down as she could, Amonella began swinging back and forth as much as she could, until at last she let go of the rope and swung forward towards the wall. Taking out one of her knives, she wedged it in-between the space between two stones. From her position on the wall, it was a simple matter to reach the ground without killing or crippling herself in the process. Looking up, she could only barely see Zylax from his position still in the upper room. How in the world the Half-Elf was going to get down to her position himself was a mystery in in of itself, but both resolved to think of something.

It was Zylax who thought up something first. Drawing a knife he kept on hand, he stabbed it down into one end of his rope and then the ground, pinning the rope in place. From there, Zylax descended the rope in the same manner Amonella had, before then swinging back and forth and then releasing. While he had no knife with which to stab into the narrow space between stones, he did have Amonella to catch his fall.

Zylax landed on top of Amonella with such force that she cried out in pain and both fell over. For a good couple moments they just lay there, in too much pain to move as they each felt as though they'd been struck by an Owlbear head-on. Eventually though the two regained just enough strength to be able to force themselves back up.

"Never, ever do that again." Amonella snarled.

"I do apologize for it my dear, but it was a matter of necessity. Had I not done it, I'd have ended up like those fellows over there." Zylax pointed to the spiked pit trap, having evidently seen the same skeletons Amonella had.

"It's only because it was necessary that I'm not punching you in the face right now." Amonella said coldly before turning heel and walking away, as she did staggering a bit.

There was yet another door at the end of the room, or perhaps more accurately a pair of double doors made of a dark brown wood. Pushing on these doors together, Zylax and Amonella were able to open them, and as they did came upon another dark cavern.

As it was, the two didn't get far before their ears picked up the sound of something scurrying through the darkness, the sound of clawed feet skittering across the ground and up and down the columns that filled this area, ones that also seemed to be lined with…

"…is that web?" Amonella asked.

Zylax never got a chance to answer. Instead, he felt something sticky and adhesive attach itself to his back and next thing the Half-Elf knew he was being hoisted upside down and carried off into the shadows. Amonella whipped about to see where Zylax had gone, but saw nothing. Turning back around, she found herself face-to-face with a large, violet-skinned creature with a bloated torso and extended, leaner limbs. The beast's head was akin to a spider, with large black pincers that drooped down and almost looked like a kind of moustache.

To her credit, Amonella was able to lash out with one of her short swords in time, stabbing the beast she recognized as an Ettercap in one of it's eyes before a swing of it's arm struck her square in the temple and knocked her to the ground. Amonella felt her vision swim and then grow dark as her ears picked up more Ettercaps scurrying about and drawing nearer…

_Moments Ago…_

"Is anyone there?" Verriz demanded as he continued to bang on the wall to no effect. "Hello? Hello!? Anyone? DAMMIT!" The Drow screamed as he banged his fist onto the wall one last time before sinking in defeat and muttering: "Just my luck. The company gets split up and I'm the one stuck with the Elf and the Paladin." Verriz turned to regard Nyx and Sir Richard, his demeanor being a fallen one as his cold eyes looked like they'd given up what little faith they'd had to begin with.

"Don't look so glum Verriz." Nyx said. "I can promise you that I won't try to kill you unless you make the first move."

"An Elf's promise isn't worth much to me." Verriz said bitterly.

"I think it's apparent from your efforts that we're on our own until further notice" Sir Richard observed before adding: "…in which case we'd be better off moving forward and hoping for the best."

"Hope? Ha! If that's all we've got on our side then I think I might as well end it all now."

"I doubt you'd actually go through with suicide." Sir Richard said dryly before adding: "…you're much too fond of yourself for that."

Verriz allowed himself a faint smile. "I suppose you do know me well after all."

Despite Verriz's clearly displayed lack of faith, he and his "allies" pressed on, going through a winding, narrow path that seemed to twist and turn almost constantly, with the three adventurers in turn changing directions again and again. As had been the case in other parts of the Beholder's lair, it was also very dark, and Sir Richard found himself going the slowest of all, as his helmet's visor already diminished his vision somewhat. Here in the darkened corridors he was effectively blinded, and had even gone as far as to putting his sword away so he could use that hand to feel for the walls. Seeing through the darkness much better thanks to his Drow eyes, Verriz couldn't help but smile at Sir Richard's predicament. It was no secret how he and the Paladin felt about each-other, and thus Verriz liked seeing the man he viewed as insufferably pompous be reduced to fumbling around in the darkness.

"Wonder how much longer this will have to go on…" Sir Richard muttered as he continued to navigate the darkened, winding corridors at a ponderous pace. "…I'm of little use when I can't see a thing."

"Not much longer." Nyx said. "I can see a door up ahead…"

Eventually, the group arrived at the door and tried it's handle. Mercifully, it wasn't locked and Nyx pushed it open with no trouble at all. Upon walking inside, the three were greeted to a much more well-lit room, the one feature of which was a large circular pit in the center. No sooner could he see where he was going again did Sir Richard re-draw his sword and hold it out. His posture grew tenser and he grasped the handle of his sword tightly as he also held his shield just as tightly in his other hand.

"I don't like the feel of this place." He said simply, eyes darting about behind his helmet's visor. "There's no way the Beholder would have some dark hallways as his only defense. Expect some kind of fighting down here."

"But the Beholder's supposed to be dead!" Verriz protested.

"But there may well be other creatures living down here. And in fact I'd stake my sword and shield on it."

"Want to put that wager to the test?" Verriz challenged.

"Shut up, both of you." Nyx said, rolling her green eyes as she found herself very quickly becoming exasperated with the Paladin and the Mercenary's bickering. Certainly she understood the cause for it easily enough, but that didn't make it any more pleasant to listen to.

The Elf Ranger's black gloved hand tried the handle of the door leading out. This one was locked. Sighing, she turned to Verriz: "The door's locked. And you're the only one here with the skills to open it in any way other than just hacking it to splinters."

"Why not just do that?" Verriz questioned, raising an eyebrow as he did. "Why should I have to expend my talents to do it when you can just burn the stupid thing down with that fancy blue-flame sword of yours."

Again Nyx sighed. As always, Verriz was determined to only do something if he got a clear reward out of it. Deciding quickly that she was in no mood to argue with the Drow, Nyx drew her moonblade and plunged the blue-flaming sword into the door. Sure enough, the blue flames hungrily devoured the old wood until soon there was nothing left of the door but black ash.

Nyx sheathed her moonblade and turned back to Verriz. "Satisfied?"

However, as Nyx said this, a deep growling sound reverberated through the room as several pairs of eyes appeared in the darkness on the other end of the burned door. Eyes that also burned, like smoldering coals. Then, with a cacophony of roars several golden-brown colored canine creatures with long, pointy ears burst forth out of the darkness, jaws of razor-sharp teeth snapping wildly as they lashed out at the three adventurers.

Verriz wasted no time attacking, drawing his wand and firing out from it a blast of magical energy at one of the canines. Incredibly, the canine seemed to vanish right before the blast struck. This in turn confirmed in Nyx's mind that their foes were Blink Dogs. Why normally good and noble hounds would attack them on sight Nyx didn't immediately know, but she soon had even bigger problems to worry about.

Another great roar burst forth out of the shadows, before then a great beast strode forth, barely fitting through the space where the door once was. It stood well over six feet tall, in fact it was likely eight feet and possibly even taller then that. It had massive, powerful hooves where feet should have been, and it's big, burly chest and broad shoulders were covered in light brown fur that was speckled with red throughout. More red dripped from the sides of the beast's mouth, and a bull's horns were proudly displayed and shining black. In it's hands it held a massive battle axe that easily put the ones used by Darnis and Yilvik to shame.

_No…_

With yet another roar, the Minotaur charged forwards, knocking over some of the Blink Dogs as it charged Nyx, who had the good sense to move out of the way before the Minotaur reached her. Minotaurs were dangerous creatures, and also beasts of pure, unmitigated evil. And Nyx knew that last thing better than most.

Clenching her teeth behind her veil and narrowing her green eyes with anger, Nyx redrew her moonblade and let it's blue fires engulf the sword. The Minotaur came bowling towards her again, the scent of blood radiating off of it's fur in an oppressive wave. Nyx ducked under the first swing of the axe and then moved her body to the side as the Minotaur brought the axe down. Nyx struck out with her moonblade, but the Minotaur brought his axe back in time to deflect the thrust. Nyx cursed under her breath. That was another thing about Minotaurs: they weren't always as slow as their size would suggest.

For their part, Sir Richard and Verriz were keeping back the Blink Dogs. Verriz continued to unleash from his wand eldritch blasts, which tended to be any Warlock's favored form of attack. Sir Richard kept his shield close at hand to counter the slashing claws and snapping jaws of the Blink Dogs, while periodic slashes and thrusts of his sword kept them at bay. One Blink Dog got in too close and Sir Richard slew it when his sword connected with the canine. It whimpered before falling over.

Verriz too managed to kill a few. Another Eldritch blast hit a Blink Dog square in the face, and it collapsed in an instant. Another Blink Dog bit into Verriz's leg. The canine's teeth went through his boot, but then Verriz's knife went through it's head.

Meanwhile, Nyx continued to trade strikes with the Minotaur, getting in thrusts where she could as the Minotaur continued to parry each and every one in-between charging at the High Elf with blood-curdling roars. The one bit of good news though was that brutal a fighter as it was the Minotaur was still a big target. Enough so that Nyx was at last able to land some hits on the Minotaur, who bellowed in rage every time the burning sword cut into his skin, the flames also singing parts of his fur.

By now, most of the Blink Dogs lay dead courtesy of Sir Richard and Verriz, and the two were now focusing their attentions on the Minotaur along with Nyx. Eldritch blasts struck the Minotaur's hide, which turned it's attentions to Verriz. The Drow mercenary backpedaled, and shot out another Eldritch blast as the Minotaur came hurtling towards him battle axe raised aloft. Darting to one side, Verriz again unleashed a magical attack, but this time his aim was off and his invocation did more damage to the wall then to the Minotaur.

The Minotaur closed the remainder of the distance frighteningly quickly, and soon was close enough to strike, his axe flashing in a steel blur. Verriz ducked under the first blow, and then considered lunging forward with his knife before thinking better of it and instead darting to one side and then turning heel and taking off. He stood no chance against a creature over twice his size in close quarters combat, which wasn't his specialty anyway.

The Minotaur though, was not to be dissuaded so easily. It charged after Verriz again, before a sword slash to one of it's legs caused it to bellow in pain and rage and whip around to face Sir Richard. Undeterred, the Paladin held both his sword and shield at the ready.

"Face me down monster. And know that you're not the first of your race that I've slain."

If the Minotaur could understand Sir Richard's words, it gave no indication, instead roaring in anger yet again before then making a ponderous charge to hack at Sir Richard's head. The Paladin evaded the strike, and then struck out with his longsword again. The Minotaur parried the first strike, but Sir Richard pressed forward, his sword striking out again and again. The Minotaur began to step back, but still struck out with it's axe as much as it could. Sir Richard's shield took some hits but remained usable, the Paladin all the while continuing to thrust with his longsword. Another thrust grazed the Minotaur's side, and blood came seeping out of the wound, so that the red decorating his fur was now his own. Enraged, the Minotaur charged forwards, knocking Sir Richard backwards. The Paladin went tumbling backwards, until soon he was on the very edge of the pit. Seeing this, the Minotaur let out one last roar and charged forward. Bracing himself, Sir Richard held firm, until at the last minute he dodged to one side. The Minotaur proved unable to halt it's advance in time, and went tumbling into the pit. As it fell though, one meaty hand grabbed Sir Richard's armored ankle and tugged. Next thing Sir Richard knew he too was falling into the inky black abyss.

"_**NO!**_" Nyx shouted, running over to the pit, only to see nothing but inky blackness when she looked down, the same kind of blackness that had vowed to swallow the whole team of adventurers up when they first reached the entrance of the Beholder's lair. And now, it had indeed swallowed one of them whole.

_No…_

_Moments Ago…_

"Bloody hell, how long does this place go on for?" Darnis wondered aloud as he, Yilvik, Amonella, and Ironfoot continued to walk through the long corridors of the lair, the sound of Ironfoot's namesake clanging against the stone floor reverberating throughout the otherwise empty corridor and leaving an echo that did little to ease the other's nerves.

"I think I see a door up ahead." Lileris noted, and sure enough the group of four did indeed arrive at a doorway. The door proved to be locked, but Ironfoot's lockpicks swiftly rectified that. Making their way inside, they were treated to a spacious room that featured chairs, a table, and even lit candles. There were also some goblets on the table, ones of a faded gold color, or perhaps brass.

"Wonder if someone's throwing us dinner." Yilvik quipped as the group cautiously made their way into the room in full. They saw that the floor was even covered with a carpet, one depicting the images of figures Lileris immediately recognized: one was of the Horned King Baphomet, while another still featured the vile, two-headed visage of the mad Demogorgon. And yet a third was of the large black spider that could only represent Lolth.

"These are Demon Princes…" Lileris noted with just a hint of disgust as she stared down at the carpet. "…I'd recognize their twisted forms anywhere. We should leave this room."

"Yes, about that…" Darnis said, trying in vain to get the door open. "…the damn door's locked again."

"What? How in blazes is that possible? Ironfoot opened it not two minutes ago!"

"And here's another thing that doesn't make any sense." Lileris noted, pointing to a stainglass window that the others turned to regard. The stainglass in question was mostly crimson and garnet in color, and features the image of the Demon Prince Orcus atop a jagged mountain holding his scepter triumphantly into the air amidst a red sky that represented most of the crimson and garnet portions of the stainglass. Through this stainglass the night sky could be seen above, including the moon.

After looking at it for a few moments, Yilvik shrugged. "What of it? It's a window. Nothing special about it except that it's stainglass and depicting one nasty beastie."

"But think: this room is surrounded by interior hallways. There's no way a window could be here showing the outside, and yet here it is. And what's more, even if this room were not surrounded by interior hallways, we still wouldn't be able to see the night sky because we're underground. It doesn't make any sense."

At this the Dwarf paused, his brow furrowing beneath his Dragon Helm as he pondered the paradox that had just been pointed out to him. Finally, he nodded and said: "Aye, you have a point. So if it can't be here, why is it here? _How_ is it here?"

"If I had to guess it's the dark magic of this place. It defies reason and instead constructs and designs on it's own terms. No doubt it also serves as a means of confounding would-be intruders…"

"…such as ourselves." Darnis noted, to which Lileris nodded. "Yes, such as ourselves." The succubus turned to Ironfoot. "Unlock that door. We're leaving here."

Ironfoot nodded and walked over to the door. Before he could open it though the door swung open on it's own. This and what lay on the other side of the door was such that Ironfoot leaped backwards, his skin turning a pale color and his eyes bulging out of his sockets as his normally stoic demeanor was replaced with one of sheer, silent terror.

On the other end of the door were tall, elegant figures dressed in all sorts of finery. They strode forward into the room with their long, flowing dark colored robes trailing behind them as silver and gold trinkets hung off their persons and an aura of something none of the four watching could readily identity hung off of them. Confidently they strode to the table, where they each of them took their seats. They paid the four adventurers, who had by now all grouped tightly together, no heed at all. Instead they took their seats and then took in each of their hands a fork and a knife.

Then another man materialized in the doorway, serving tray in hand. He walked over to the table and gave each of the men and women in black and charcoal a plate of some kind of meat that the four could not immediately identify. And then they ate.

But they did more than simply eat. As the four continued to watch, they were assaulted with images of the men and women at the table going from simply dining to chuckling, and then giggling, and then finally outright cackling, manically even. Several of them choked on their food and their eyes bulged out as they gasped for air and fell backwards, a sight that inspired the others to laugh harder, a clear cruelty present in their cackling.

Then these images transitioned to new ones, of the men and women suddenly becoming incredibly, terribly violent towards one another. One jammed their fork into another's hand, smiling wickedly as he screamed in pain and blood came out of the fork. Others still engaged in acts of wanton sexual activity, with what should have been moans of contentment and ecstasy instead sounding like the wails of a Banshee. Clothes were shed, or in many cases brutally and messily torn off by their partners. Intermingled with the sex were acts of continuing violence, until at last Lileris could see the men and women transform before her eyes.

And she saw her own kin.

They were all of them Succubi or Incubi, some changing between the two forms every time Lileris felt her heart go another beat. Pounding and pounding in her chest Lileris beheld with absolute disgust her kin, all of them smiling wickedly at her, and beckoning Lileris to rejoin them with black claws extended and blood colored wings flapping wildly. Crimson light now shined through the stainglass window, making the red light redder still. Finally, the stainglass window shattered, sending a flurry of red glass flying in Lileris' direction. The Succubus shielded herself with her wings, but as she parted them, she saw that her kinsmen had not been so fortunate.

On that floor, in fact on that very carpet bearing the images of the Demon Princes Daris, Yilvik, and Ironfoot all lay dead. The latter's small Halfling body had been thoroughly riddled with broken glass and a large pool of blood formed beneath him, spreading over the image of Lolth's spider form. Yilvik has a single large shard of glass embedded in his eye-hole, and Darnis lay on his stomach, showing a mess of glass in his back and blood from his corpse covering the two heads of Demogorgon.

And it was with this, that Lileris screamed and everything went dark.

**Author's Note: The Overlook Hotel from **_**The Shining **_**was definitely an inspiration for my design of the Beholder's Lair in many respects, as I think **_**The Shining **_**is a great example of psychological horror, and as I made clear in the first chapter, I wanted some of that for this story. I hope you all enjoyed!**


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